


“Jack” the Ripper

by Madam_Marie



Category: The Terror (2018 TV series), The Terror - Dan Simmons, The Terror - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Jack the Ripper - Freeform, London, M/M, Murder, The Terror, True Crime, gay shit, idfk, the terror amc
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-19
Updated: 2018-04-19
Packaged: 2019-04-25 03:32:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14369997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Madam_Marie/pseuds/Madam_Marie
Summary: Beat down by society and sly as a fox, a devious young man brings the Whitechapel District to it’s knees.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is basically a Jack the Ripper AU For Amc’s 2018 Series “The Terror”

It was a cool fall morning, darkened leaves falling upon the stone streets of the Whitechapel District. The crisp air surrounded the young man who was walking at a steady pace, each of his breaths visible against his thick black sideburns. He noted that the sun had barely risen, leaving remnants of night's blue hue on the city. This lad, Harry Goodsir, was making his way to the home of Doctor Stanley, where they would conduct a variety of tests on some rats they managed to catch. Having walked these streets everyday of his life, he knew the people who resided in each house. It was likely he would see Mr. Blankey or Mr. Armitage, as they too are early risers. Almost uncannily on time, Mr. Blankey opened the door to his housing complex and greeted the ambitious young man. 

"Mister Goodsir! How've you been lad?"  Harry stopped a moment, his beautiful green eyes meeting that of the older man. 

"Just fine, sir. I was actually on my way to meet Doctor Stanley." 

Mr. Blankey chuckled. "If I didn't know any better I'd think he was your father!"

The young doctor couldn't help but laugh at this, knowing it's true sincerity. "Maybe I'm his long lost son."

Not allowing an awkward silence to form, the older man picked up the conversation. "How's his daughter been doing? I haven't seen her around the district in a while."

Dr. Goodsir scanned the blue tinted premises for any eavesdropping ear before he proceeded with reluctance. In a hushed, yet pitiful tone, he spoke.  
"You didn't hear this from me, but his wife took the girl and up and left. I heard they moved to the Westminster District." 

Mr. Blankey had just opened his wrinkled mouth to speak when a truly disturbed voice pierced through the air.   
A woman's holler of pure terror and disgust, to be exact. 

Harry's green eye's met those of Mr. Blankey, in an unspoken mutual agreement to investigate. The noise seemed to be coming from the mid area of Bucks Row. 

The two men hurriedly made their way to the source of the wretched sounds, passing by a variety of shops that were still resting in a peaceful slumber. 

As they made their way further down the block, the horrific yelling had grown into more of a hush and now a large amount of men and women had awoken.

The finely dressed men and women stood in a condensed crowd, eyes straining to see what was in the center of the group.

"That's disgusting," Harry overheard a gentleman churn to his wife.

"What a monstrosity," a fine young lady with bright blue eyes and golden locks exclaimed.

Blankey and Goodsir began to push through the crowd.

"Excuse me, coming through," the older man's raspy voice spoke as he pushed his way through a man and a woman.

When he reached the center of the crowd, he noticed the young doctor had gotten there before him, standing frozen in place, his gentle green eyes open wide with horror.

He followed Harry's gaze, which landed on the gruesome sight before him.

A pale young man, probably about thirty years old, lay slain. His deep blue eyes stared at the grey sky with deadly wonder. 

His complexion was pale, whether it was  natural or because of his immense amount of blood loss, the doctor could not say. Probably a mixture of both.

The man's face was quite handsome, scruff surrounding the bottom half of his face, though it was shaved in a clean looking manner. 

His facial attractiveness was contradicted by the gruesome manner of his murder. 

That pale throat of his was slashed, nearly to the point of decapitation, complemented by the mutilation of his lower torso and abdomen. 

Surely at one point he was any woman's dream man, but from now on he would lay on the damp street as a disgusting reminder of the human race's cruelty. 

Goodsir was unsure how to react, his brain was in clear shock. What facial expression should he be making?

He scanned the other men's faces. Across the way from him were two  
men, one with longer grey hair and deep brown eyes which looked sunken, likely from the gruesome sight in front of him. His arms were wrapped around a younger man, with short brown hair, whose face was dug into the other's chest. He noticed both of the men were holding books, presumably they were just on their way to buy more when they would see something worse than any fictional book could offer.

When the grey haired man met his gaze, the doctor quickly shifted it to a shorter man to his left. He had the same blue eyes as the body laying on the ground. Perhaps he was even more attractive than the body.

He had longer dirty blonde hair, slicked back to emphasize his pale skin and beautiful eyes. His nose was sharp and almost beak-like and right above his rosy lips was a mustache, perfectly matching his dirty blonde hair. In his hands he held a top hat. 

This young man did not look phased. His mouth was resting naturally, the only thing that would suggest he was looking at the murder of the century were those eyes, which were locked onto the body.

"COMING THROUGH!" A loud and demanding male's voice rang. Finally the police had arrived. 

Mr. Collins, an old friend of Harry's made his way to the body, his eyes filled with the same disgust as the rest of him. 

He seemed to have noticed Goodsir, giving him a nod of acknowledgement before examining the slain young man.

"Mr. Deveau, search the body for identification. Someone go fetch Doctor Stanley."

"Sir," the two men spoke before doing their tasks. 

Mr. Collins made his way towards his buddy. 

"Mr. Goodsir, from what you can tell, what type of weapon do you think the murder used. I know you've studied anatomy."

Goodsir's green eyes struggled to focus on the body, but he hesitantly spoke, attempting to remain professional.

"Based on the slashes, presumably a knife or some straight edged object. He probably died quickly, due to the amount of blood loss."

The police man nodded, seemingly in agreement. 

"John Irving, sir." 

The two men looked over.

"His name is John Irving."


	2. Chapter Two

Mister Hickey looked down at the silver pocket watch his rough hand clutched.  
Half past eight. It had truly been a chaotic morning so far.  

Cornelius had just switched shifts with Mr. Tozier. The two horses, Jack and John, were extremely restless this morning, an omen that he had let slip by. 

"How were they this morning?" Tozier had asked.

"Willing to walk," Cornelius chuckled as a smirk crossed his face. He recalled one time Tozier was giving a carriage ride to some member of parliament, when the two horses refused to walk. It was truly humiliating. 

"For you at least," the other man scoffed while hopping into the driver's seat. He grabbed the ropes with his blistering hands, implying he was to get going. 

"Tell your roommate Billy I say hello." 

Cornelius raised his brows before a sweet smile crossed his face. "Of course," he reassured. 

Tozier gave him one last nod before jerking the leather ropes, a smacking sound cutting through the crisp morning air. 

When he was far enough down Bucks Row, the blonde let out a laugh.

"Roommate," he whispered under his breath. "What a fucking fool." 

He and Billy had been together for quite some time now. They lived together, so they claimed they were just close friends. Which in a sense they were, except with sex and hand holding. This was all in private of course and Cornelius couldn't help but feel a sense of pride at his secrecy. 

As the morning was failing to warm, he buttoned up his heavy black coat and straightened his top hat.

He had barely walked ten feet before he heard the sound of pure horror. His curious nature got the best of him, and before he noticed he was sprinting towards the horrific sound. 

Mr. Hickey saw what he had expected. He knew it would be a body, just like it always was. Growing up in a rough district, death was a common thing, though not as gruesome as this. 

Rather than disgusted, he was rather intrigued. The victim was not a stranger to him. It was John Irving from the printing press. The man was very holy, Cornelius recalls giving him a ride to church on numerous Sundays.   
The best word to describe him was "Proper" as he was a man with a remarkable set of manners. Perhaps that is what made this crime so shocking, such a holy victim.

The people's reactions differed. Some looked away, some cried. Most of these finely dressed people blended in with the blue tint that was cast over the Whitechapel District during this time. One young man in the group stood out. He was average looking, with thick black hair and mutton chops. What caught Hickey was his eyes. They were basically emeralds, filled with ambition and life. No one was like that anymore, but he was, even in his look of shock.  
Based on his posture and way of speaking he likely came from a very nice part of town. Well educated and good morales, something Cornelius used to strive for. 

His suspicions were confirmed when a commonly known medic, Doctor Stanley had arrived and the two began a close inspection of what was left of Irving.   
He seemed to notice Cornelius too, they were occasionally passing glances back and fourth. 

By now it was at least nine o' clock, meaning his love would be leaving for work soon. Wanting to see him, Cornelius turned away and began to walk away at a slow pace. 

"Sir, wait!" A kind and mellow voice called out. Hickey turned around, to see the young man walking towards him. He really did not seem okay. 

"Can I help with something Doctor?" The shorter man asked while slightly tilting his head in confusion. 

"I just wanted to say...please be careful." 

Cornelius tried to prevent his brow from furrowing in confusion and nodded. 

"You too," he said more as a question, rather than a statement. He turned to continue home. 

"I'm..I'm sorry, it's just that you kind of look like Mr. Irving, especially the-"

"The eyes." Cornelius finished the sentence. 

The doctor seemed almost relieved, but obviously only had good intentions.

"He and I had met a few times before. It's all we ever heard. That we have the same eyes." 

"Goodsir, you're needed..." Dr. Stanley called from over the body, which was now being lifted. 

Their eyes met as a goodbye. "Watch out for yourself...Goodsir," Mr. Hickey said while attempting to give a sweet smile, which ironically always ended up looking sinister.

With that, he continued down Buck's Row.


	3. Chapter 3

With the sun finally risen, the solemn cast over the district had dispersed, leaving a warm sunlight on everything.   
Such pure and natural light was able to make even a dilapidated loft seem beautiful. 

Hickey sat on the creaky wooden chair placed in the center of the filthy room, his fingernails tapping rhythmically on the table placed in front of him.

Billy should be home anytime soon. Waiting was grueling. All he wanted to do was feel the other's lips against his own, their scruff scratching each other's cheeks and hands gripping hair. 

When the door finally opened, Cornelius felt his heart skip a beat, but when he laid eyes on his love any excitement he had diminished. 

Gibson looked utterly terrible. His skin had faded to the lightest complexion possible, his eyes had grown dark and heavy bags burdened them. 

"Billy, what happened?" Cornelius questioned, his blue eyes trembling in disbelief. He gently clutched the taller mans unsteady and rough hands. 

William's pale eyes wandered downwards to meet Cornelius's in a very unstable lock. 

" I didn't get the promotion..." 

With this statement an entire world came flooding back to the shorter man.   
The two had held a conversation a while back, struggling to manage their meager income. Billy, who worked at the printing press, noted that a promotion was to be given, as one of the managers had been killed in a freak carriage accident.

"Do you think you'll get promoted?" Hickey recalls asking, his higher pitched voice chipper.   
"Well theres me and two other men who could potentially get it," Gibson had trailed off, seeming to notice Cornelius's excitement. 

A temporary silence befell them, only to be broken by the other man's interrogation. 

"Well? Who are they?" 

Billy sighed and scratched the stubble lining the his jaw. 

"I'm really not worried about Mr. Daveau. He is not the sharpest tool in the shed." 

"What about the other one?"

"That's where the problem is." 

"What? Why?"

"The boss see's somethin in him, maybe because he's so proper." 

"Who is he?"

"I'd rather not talk about him."

Snapping back to reality, Cornelius felt his stomach knot. His throat grew tight, not knowing what to say. 

By now Billy had lost the strength to stand and lay sprawled on one of the two chairs they owned. His boney fingers pressed into the dry skin of his face. 

Feeling obligated and pitiful, the shorter man gradually made his way over to the other and kneeled down before him. 

"We're going to make the best of a bad situation. Just like we always do" He placed his hand on the other's knee and forced a smile on his face, even though he really wanted to cry. [if you watched all of the terror you'll know the inspiration for this lmao] 

"No,no...no.." Were the only coherent mumbles escaping Billy's mouth as he grew more and more restless. 

Witnessing his love's increasing hopelessness, Cornelius rose, straightening his shoulders. 

"William Gibson, you deserved that promotion and you know it. The man who got promoted couldn't hold a candle to your smile or even compete with your work eth-" 

"Oh god Cornelius just stop..." 

Now Gibson was swaying his head back and fourth gently, his hands clamping to his ears. 

"Thomas Jopson got the job, I should have known...." 

"Billy stop that talk, you and I both know you are just as worthy as any other person..." 

Hickey allowed himself to trail off as his love broke off into a coughing fit. He clutched his chest as the horrific heaves escaped his throat. 

As seconds ticked by and the fit failed to cease, Billy was unable to hold still, his body falling lazily to the dirty ground.

Cornelius found himself on his knees, blistering fingers wrapped in Gibsons tightly curled hair. 

“I’ve got to get him to Dr. Stanly’s” Hickey thought, knowing he would have to carry the man who was at least 6 inches taller than him and well knowing they could not afford such medical treatment.


	4. Chapter 4

As Cornelius had expected, carrying Gibson was close to impossible, at least not with their size difference. So instead of that, he improvised, allowing the ill man to wrap his arm around his shoulders. At least it allowed Billy some balance while he stumbled his way towards Doctor Stanley's.

By now, the city had become alive, children, men and women continuing their daily routines. A variety of horse carriages made their way through the brick roads, hooves tapping on the ground a prominent noise. 

But not enough to drown out the hush of the Whitechapel District. Every newsboy hollered the same thing "John Irving found dead on Bucks Row!"   
"Murder on Bucks Row!" "Body found Mutilated!" 

Normally, Hickey would have been intrigued, listened to what the press had to say about the victim and potential suspects. He did witness the horrific sight of John Irving this morning. 

"Cor..Cornelius," Gibson huffed out, voice sounding hoarse and helpless. 

The shorter man froze, as his love was clearly out of energy and breath.   
"What do you need, Billy?" He asked, unsure of what to do.

"I can't walk," the other whispered under his raspy breath before beginning to loose his balance and stumble along the damp pavement. 

Thinking fast, Cornelius leaned him against the wall of Mrs. Lovett's Pie Shop, which was stained with layers of smog and grease. Billy shrank down to his knees and lay sprawled, moaning in his agony. 

He appeared to be stuck in a cold sweat, his body shivering although covered in a coating of perspiration.  
Gibson's head swayed lazily from left to right while his drained eyes failed to remain fully open. He was obviously in agony. 

Hickey never carried a handkerchief, but at that moment he wished he had. As an improvisation, he began to wipe Billy's forehead with the sleeve of his jacket. 

"We're gonna get you to Doctor Stanly's, I promise," Cornelius whispered, although it was barely audible over the chatter of people and the neighing of horses.

The stares they were receiving from people pierced into the blonde's back, although he tried to ignore them. As expected, no one acknowledged the ill man. Hickey desired the strength to be angry at these total strangers for ignoring his love's terrible condition, but deep down he knew if he had witnessed something like this go down, he too would continue walking without a second thought.

"My knees feel like there is glass in them," Billy choked out. 

"I know, I know," Cornelius whispered in an attempt to console him. 

"We've got to keep walking, we haven't got a choice," he urged while witnessing Gibsons deteriorating state.  
With the sun beaming across the city and resting upon the other's face, he noticed how pale he had really become.

As if a miracle had taken place, an unusually melodic voice sliced through the mundane hush of Whitechapel District. It was not high nor low pitched, but rather a perfect balance between the two. 

"Billy!? Are you okay?" It called, before the sound of a heeled shoe tapping on the stone became prominent. 

Cornelius turned around, only to lay eyes on a masterpiece.

It was a man, probably around his age, meaning early twenties. Not just any man, an absolutely gorgeous one. His dark hair, combed perfectly to a side part was complimented his pale skin and mesmerizing green eyes. Something about them was just so electrifying, the emerald irises contradicted by his solid black pupils. 

The young man removed his umber and notably elegant trench coat, and placed it upon Gibson's shoulder.

Whether out of shock or natural impulse, Cornelius felt himself shove the man, pressing hard on his muscular chest, causing him to slightly loose his balance. 

"Don't fucking touch him!" Hickey spat, standing directly in front of the the beautiful stranger.

Before the blink of an eye, another man had appeared between Cornelius and the green eyed guy. 

"Touch him again and I'll kill you," a stern and powerful voice resounded from this newcomer's deep vocal cords.  
He was much taller than the blonde and noticeably puffing his chest. 

This man was very attractive, just like his counterpart. He had slightly longer and wavy brunette hair which blended in with his face perfectly with the aid of thick sideburns. His chocolate brown eyes were slightly sunken, not because of age, but rather stress from what it looked like. 

Hickey clenched his fists and gritted his teeth, prepared to defend his man at all costs. His blue eyes met the other man's strong brown ones in a death stare until is was finally broken. 

"Edward, enough," The shorter man's prim voice demanded. He stepped out from behind "Edward" while continuously speaking to him. 

"I'd be just as protective if that was you on the ground," he reasoned in a kind tone while eyeing Billy. 

With that Edward let out a slow sigh and hesitantly eased his tense muscles. 

The shorter stranger then removed his finely tailored top hat, which had a green pastel ring around it. 

"Hello," he said, a bright white smile crossing his sharp jawline.  
"I'm sorry to have startled you. I'm Thomas Jopson. I work at the printing press with William." 

With that he held out his hand, which was shrouded by a perfectly fitting black glove, to Hickey. 

A sly smile had once again crossed Cornelius's face as he place his hand in Jopsons and gave a firm shake. 

"So he's the one that got promoted," he thought while constructing an appropriate facial expression. 

By now Thomas had retreated back to Edwards arms, standing with his chest against the side of the taller man, who's hand crept it's way around his waste. 

"This is my Fiancé Edward Little," he explained. Little removed his top hat with his free hand and nodded at Hickey. 

It took a moment to process.   
"Fiancé?" He asked in total confusion.


	5. Chapter 5

Cornelius was jealous. There was no way around it. He wanted everything Thomas  had.

He couldn't keep his snake eyes from creeping at the green eyed beauty, who stood wrapped in Little's arm. Even his clothes were gorgeous. A light grey button up, made out of the finest threads, hugged his muscular body. On top of that was a dark navy vest, with lighter blue lines striping it vertically. A crimson tie managed to peak out between these two fine garments.   
Cornelius was sure Jopson had abs.

His eyes trailed down to the man's legs, which displayed pale blue pants with a plaid pattern created by darker blue lines. These were held up by a dark leather belt, with a gleaming golden buckle that was likely crafted of real gold. 

Physically, this man had everything. Silky, dark hair, electric green eyes, a white smile, a muscular body, an ass and even perfect finger nails. Not to mention he was the trophy of a man just as attractive as him.  

"It's for 'business relations'" Edward scoffed while creating air quotations with his fingers.

This forced an angelic laugh out of his love. 

"Both of our fathers are business owners. Mr. Crozier, my father, runs the rail company. Edward's father runs a mining company," Thomas explained. 

"We're getting married so Edward could control both businesses. Technically I'd be heir to the rail company, but all this business stuff is just not my thing." 

"Ah, so that's why Jopson works at the press," Hickey slyly thought. 

"The same thing happened with Thomas's Dads, you know," Little laughed. 

"What?" The blonde man questioned, his eyebrows perking up in interest.

"Mr. Fitzjames is my other father. They got married for 'buisness' reasons, but everyone knows they love each other,"  
Jopson laughed. 

"Luckily we love each other too," Edward chirped in before placing a big kiss on his lover's cheek, who was now smiling in delight. 

Cornelius felt his jaw clench at the perfect couple standing before him while forcing out a laugh. 

Billy let out a heavy groan at this moment, as his agony seemed to grow increasingly stronger, though he was now noticeably clutching Thomas's jacket which was placed upon his shoulders. 

"Edward signal a carriage, please," Jopson said while leaning down to button the coat. 

"Carriage? We can't fucking afford that!" Cornelius exclaimed, stepping in front of Little. 

"If we don't get him to Dr. Stanley's he's going to end up catching the white plague," The green eyed man reasoned. 

"Besides, we're gonna pay," Edward added. 

A man pulled over with a notably fancy carriage, likely because Edward and Thomas were obviously wealthy, even from feet away. 

It was painted a very clean white, with a blue swirl and plant looking design coated the doors. Even the horses were beautiful, both colored jet black. Very slick and beautiful like Thomas. 

Hickey was too busy admiring the vessel when he heard Jopson cry out.

"Edward!" 

The blonde turned around to see Little holding his fiancée bridal style, who was slightly squirming.

"You love when I pick you up!" Edward retorted in confusion.

"Pick up the sick man first!" 

"Can I pick you up after?" 

"Yes, fine, but Billy first!" 

He placed Jopson back on his feet and kissed him on the cheek again, both chuckling. 

Cornelius puked in his mouth at the sight and just wanted them to hurry. 

He sat in the carriage, with Gibson's head on his lap. Even the inside of the thing was nice. The seats were firm, with a red layer of velvet coating them. 

Edward and Thomas sat across from the two after Little had directed the coachman to Doctor Stanley.

"I do not believe I caught your name," the taller man noted. 

"I'm Cornelius Hickey. Billy's roommate." 

"Nice to make your acquaintance, Mr. Hickey," the brunette responded. 

A short lived silence fell upon them, though Cornelius was quick to break it. 

"Tell me, Thomas, if you have two fathers, where is your mother?"

"Mr. Crozier saved me from an orphans home," he explained while adjusting a golden ring placed upon his ring finger and over his black glove. 

The glint of the sun reflecting off of it rested upon the face of Edward, who seemed to notice Jopson fiddling with it. 

"That ring doesn't suit you," he stated while taking his fiancée's hand into his own.

"My father insisted I give you it. If it was up to me there would me more emeralds and lapis lazuli to match your eyes." 

"I don't care how it looks, as long as it means I'll be marrying you." 

This was disgusting in Hickey's mind. To distract himself, he began curling his fingers through Gibsons thick dirty blonde hair.

This was going to be a long ride.


End file.
